Running Away
by alexwriter
Summary: Set two years after the Season 3 finale, Kyle has chosen to run away. With a new identity and a grim career choice, Kyle lives through the present and reflects on the past.
1. Beginnings

It had been two years since he ran away from his home, his family, his friends, and his love. Two years since he had fled from the darkness that Latnok had put him through.

An endless cycle of thoughts constantly threatened to overwhelm the emotional barriers he had put up over the past two years. Reflecting upon it, he despised himself for departing, for hurting those he loved. In the end, though, he knew that it was for the best. His parents, his brother and sister, Jessi, and most of all Amanda, were now safe. Latnok would not go after them after he had severed any connection they shared. That heartless group of so-called 'humanitarians' was only interested in him. It pained him greatly, but he knew that he had made the right decision.

Now, Kyle was twenty and had lived through much in the past couple of years since he had left. His experiences had hardened him, strengthened him, and taught him about the real world. Underneath the tough exterior which he exhibited to those around him, there still existed the boy who looked at everything with wonder, a part of him which yearned to break free of the wall he had erected around his heart.

He had wanted to get away as far as possibly from all that he knew. Kyle had become a soldier of fortune, seeking to rid himself of his grief through heartless acts. For nearly two years, he had fought in Iraq, suffered and underwent many challenges.

A VOICE TO KYLE'S SIDE: Kyle, for fuck's sake man, we're pinned down here!

Kyle looked towards the young man who was frantically begging for assistance. Declan had accompanied him through the good times and the bad. After having gone through so much together, the two had become like brothers.

At first, they had trained together until they were truly ready to throw their lives away in some meaningless conflict. After having proven their combat skills under the watchful eyes of Blackwater, a private military corporation, the two had signed contracts with the firm. Soon enough, Kyle and Declan were shipped off to fight in Iraq.

DECLAN: You think you can go around and take them out?!

KYLE: I'll need to get across the street, and then climb to the roof of that apartment building right there. Cover me!

Declan quickly leaned just past the wall the pair were hiding behind and provided cover-fire, while Kyle ran across the deserted street, as gunshots flared all around him. He reached his destination unscathed and unfazed. Kyle had been in countless similar situations. There was little which frightened him anymore.

It didn't take long before he reached the top of the five-story apartment building. Kyle quickly spotted a gunman on another rooftop further down the street, and instantly knew what he had to do. Taking his rifle in his steady hands, he pointed it at the hapless man and pulled the trigger. Kyle never missed. Experience, as well as his superhuman skills, had transformed him into an almost invincible warrior. As the bullet travelled up the barrel and out of the gun, time itself seemed to slow down. Kyle could see the projectile sluggishly moving towards its target. Every moment was agony to him. The bullet hit the gunman directly in the side of the neck. Clutching at his throat in pain, the man fell to the ground, as blood began to pool around him.

Kyle watched the man exhale one final time before expiring. He felt a strange thrill course through him. He had become accustomed to feeling powerful and in control, though Kyle never consciously realized this. Seconds later, the fact that he had taken another life hit him. Kyle felt terrible for it. The man he had killed could have had a family who loved him, just as Kyle once had. Remorse invaded his thoughts.

As Kyle returned back to grim reality, he heard his friend shout up to him.

DECLAN: Did you get him?

KYLE (shouts back): Yeah, I got him. I'll be down in a few minutes.

As Kyle began to march back down the stairs, he heard a whimper arise from an adjacent room. Curiosity, an instinct which he had never really lost, engulfed him. He cautiously slinked into the room where the sound had emanated from. The sight that met Kyle's eyes was heart-breaking. A little boy, hunched in the corner in a little ball, was softly crying. He could sense fear, desperation and loneliness radiating from the boy. Immediately, Kyle remembered his very first moment of life that fateful day in the woods, how alone and afraid he had felt. Sympathy welled up in him, and he crouched down several feet away.

KYLE (softly): Hey, it's okay. You're safe now.

The boy, not understanding English, looked up in horror at being caught. Alarm was evident in his eyes, but he made no move to run away.

Kyle pulled out a chocolate bar he had in his pouch and offered it. Realizing that the man in front of him meant him no harm, the boy snatched the bar and began to nibble at it. A few seconds later a smile appeared on the youngster's tear-covered face. Kyle smiled back, and then chuckled as he noticed that the boy's mouth was by now covered in chocolate. Remembering the loneliness he had sensed earlier, Kyle frowned.

KYLE (sighs): You have nobody to take care of you and you're all alone. I know what that feel like….Don't worry. I'll take care of you.

Kyle took the boy's hand and the two walked out of the building. Declan was waiting at the entrance.

DECLAN (smiles): Who's the little runt?

KYLE: I found him upstairs. He's all alone.

DECLAN (frowns in thought): Hmmmm....Well we can take him back to base camp, but we won't be able to keep him there forever. Not a very nice place to grow up anyway.

KYLE: I'll talk to Foss. He has contacts. Maybe we can find him parents.

DECLAN: You mean adoption?

KYLE: Yes, people who will love him.

DECLAN: Just like the Tragers with you.

Kyle smiled sadly and nodded.


	2. Never Give Up

Admittedly, Foss had been caught off guard by Kyle's decision to become a PMC. He understood why Kyle ran away from his home and those he loved; to keep them safe. What he didn't understand was what made him choose such a deadly career. Surely there were other options. Though he had never confronted Kyle about this, Foss had his suspicions, which he kept to himself.

Foss had killed countless people in the past. Sometimes the reasons weren't completely in line with his own point of view, but he had done what needed to be done. At first, he had felt remorse for killing, though this emotion slowly dissipated over time, as he became increasingly desensitized towards death. Yet, he also felt something else besides remorse. He felt strangely thrilled by the power and control it gave him, at least in the moment. That sense of power had become almost like an addiction, he had to kill in order to satisfy his craving.

The deaths of his wife and daughter put everything into perspective, though. The pain and loneliness he felt instilled in him a sort of empathy for anyone who was suffering. It was then that he began to recognize his addiction and attempt to overcome it. Ironically, there was a silver lining to the deaths of the people he loved. It allowed him to become human again.

Foss eyed the boy in irritation. What was Kyle thinking bringing a child into a heavily fortified compound? There were thousands of kids like him in Baghdad, not to mention the rest of the country. But Kyle always had to be Kyle, watching out for the innocent, helping those who couldn't help themselves. In spite of everything, when he thought about what he would have done in Kyle's place, Foss realized he would have probably helped the kid out. The sound of Declan's voice snapped Foss back to reality.

DECLAN: Well, where's that interpreter you called?

FOSS: Be patient. He should be here any minute.

Just then, an older man opened the door and entered. He quickly eyed his surroundings noting the clean, spartan layout of the room.

DECLAN: About time!

The interpreter merely nodded his head in greeting.

FOSS: Right, ask the boy what his name is.

The interpreter quickly enquired in an incomprehensible language.

BOY: Malik Khan.

FOSS: Malik Khan. The name means nothing to me. Ask him what he was doing cowering inside that abandoned apartment building earlier today.

Malik squeaked out a longer response.

INTERPRETER: He says his parents were killed when one of your planes dropped bombs on his home, close by to where you found him.

Declan and Foss exchanged glances. They both knew that it was the indiscriminate killing of civilians which fuelled the insurgency. This boy would turn into a man someday, and perhaps attempt to avenge his parents' deaths.

As if on cue, Malik began to sob softly. When he looked up at Foss and Declan, hatred flashed in his eyes. Could they really blame him, though? To Malik, Foss and Declan were the embodiment of his hatred; cruel men who had killed his loved ones.

* * *

Kyle stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his soaking body, he walked over to a sink and glanced up into the mirror. The young man staring back at him was a stranger. His grey eyes had once been an open window into his soul, but now they seemed lifeless, as if barring anyone from reading his thoughts and feelings. His skin had grown darker under the harsh middle-eastern sun. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, noting the harsh stubble. He hadn't shaved for several days, not that it mattered one bit.

With a soft sigh, he released the tension that had been building up all day. Walking over to the change room, Kyle got dressed and headed out to the mess hall to grab his supper.

Declan was already waiting for him at the entrance to the large metallic building, a lone light illuminating his face in the darkness of the evening.

DECLAN: Hey.

KYLE (as they walked inside): Hey. So what did you find out about the boy?

DECLAN: Well, he seems to be an orphan. His mother and father died when a friendly bomber levelled their home, near that apartment where you found him. It's lucky you spotted him when you did.

KYLE: What do you mean?

DECLAN: He said he's been living in that deserted building for the past week. He was practically starving. I don't know how much longer he could have survived there.

The two friends walked over to the mess counter and filled their trays with food that didn't look all that fresh.

KYLE: It's not only that. Our artillery is scheduled to shell that entire block tomorrow, doesn't matter who's there and who isn't. He wouldn't have survived.

DECLAN: Wait, the place was going to be shelled tomorrow?...I really should read those reports from headquarters more often. [shakes his head in disbelief] Jesus, you're right. He would have never made it.

KYLE (changing the subject): What's his name?

DECLAN: He says it's Malik Khan, but there's no record of that name in any of the government databases.

KYLE: I'm not surprised. The country is in chaos. The government can't even keep its citizens under control, much less keep track of them….He can stay in one of the empty quarters for a few days. We'll find him a home in the meanwhile.

DECLAN (looking Kyle in the eyes): Hey man, you're a good person for helping this kid.

Kyle glanced down in shame, remembering what he had done earlier that day, how he had killed the insurgent. His mind began to rationalize. The man had been shooting at them. He had to do something. It was either kill or be killed. Besides, Kyle was certain that he had rid the world of one more murderer. He was simply the instrument justice, delivering swift punishment.

* * *

A VOICE: Kyle! Kyle! Wake up man!

Kyle rapidly opened his eyes, clenching his jaw in irritation at having been disturbed from his slumber. His irritation immediately faded once he saw an overly agitated Declan leaning over him.

KYLE: What's going on?

DECLAN: Malik ran away.

KYLE: He ran away?

DECLAN: Yeah, into the city.

Inside feelings of worry and dread wound through his mind. War-torn Baghdad was no place for a small child to be wandering about at night. Kyle became increasingly alarmed, though he did not show it.

KYLE: Any idea where he went? Baghdad's huge.

DECLAN: Foss put a tracking device on him. He's somewhere in Rusafa.

KYLE: Foss actually bugged the boy?....Right, let's go find him.

DECLAN: Kyle, are you crazy, man!? We can't go out of the Green Zone at night. We'd never make it back alive. You heard about what those bastards did to those four PMCs who were captured a few years ago? I don't want that happening to me!

Kyle cringed in fear. He had heard stories about how men in his line of work were treated by the insurgents.

KYLE: We can't just leave him out there to die! He's just a child. He can't take care of himself.

Declan sighed and nodded reluctantly. He knew they had to find the boy before anything happened to him. Malik was their responsibility now, and although Declan was frightened at the prospect of traversing the treacherous Baghdad streets at night, he also felt a sense of duty calling him.

DECLAN: Jesus Christ, the kind of shit you put me through….If we make it out alive, you owe me big.

Kyle smiled and nodded back. He knew his friend would always watch his back.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were all set to go. The pair wore civilian clothes. If they didn't carefully blend in, they would be recognized as westerners. Their only chance was to keep as low a profile as possible. Still, Kyle and Declan were well-prepared. Wearing bullet-proof vests underneath their hoodies, they knew they would have some degree of protection. They each carried several pistols in hidden holsters tucked to their sides, as well as half a dozen spare magazines wrapped around their waists.

Hopping in a dark sedan, they slowly drove up to the gate of the compound. Kyle knew that the guards were prohibited from letting anyone out at night. He had to figure out a way to open the gate. Closing his eyes, Kyle concentrated on the circuits concealed deep in the walls of the compound. Suddenly, the doors of the gate began to slowly drift apart.

DECLAN (laughing): You still got it in you.

Kyle smirked. He had bolstered his abilities over the past two years. The constant fight for survival had forced him to summon hidden strength he never knew he possessed.

Driving through the streets of Baghdad, nobody took a second look at their vehicle. They intermixed flawlessly with the busy traffic. Although it was night, vendors were still selling their wares on street corners lit by greenish light. People were teeming about, buying what little they could afford. Prostitutes lined the street, flashing their breasts at passing cars. There was not a soldier in sight. Nobody associated with the government or the occupying forces dared come out at night, for fear of being killed or possibly worse.

Kyle checked the screen of the on-board computer. A red dot flashed near their position. Malik had to be nearby. There were gradually fewer and fewer people the farther they drove. Finally, they reached a dead end, completely deserted of any life save for the occasional rodent. Unable to drive any further, Declan parked the sedan in a dimly lit corner. The two got out of the car and assessed their situation. There were several narrow alleys jutting out. Lit only by the eerie green fluorescent light, the alleys could swallow up anyone in their ominous darkness.

At this point, Kyle was close enough to Malik's position to use his special abilities. Concentrating, he attempted to detect the child's heartbeat, having memorized Malik's unique pulse. Nothing, Kyle felt nothing.

KYLE: I'm not sensing his heartbeat. Maybe the tracking device fell off him.

DECLAN: Or maybe he's dead and we just risked our necks for nothing.

Kyle frowned at his friend. He couldn't just give up on the boy. Had Nicole given up on him when he had practically been a child? Kyle felt that if he didn't save the boy, a part of himself would die.

KYLE: We can still use the computer to follow the device's signal.

DECLAN: Okay, but we get the boy and get out. This place isn't exactly where I want to be spending my free time.

Grabbing the computer, Kyle and Declan entered one of the alleys, striding down the dimly lit passageway. Filth covered the damp ground; garbage, dead rats, excrement. Only a few minutes had elapsed, but to the two friends, time itself slowed down to an unbearable degree. Sinister eyes seemed to stare at them from shadowy doorways and windows, delighting in their foolhardiness.

Kyle and Declan came to a sudden halt, as they noticed a large garbage bag twenty yards ahead. They ran towards the object, stopped, and exchange glances. Kyle slowly opened the bag, revealing its contents.

DECLAN: Holy shit!

Declan turned away gagging, while Kyle stared on in horror. Who could have done this?


	3. A Horrible Fate

"Holy shit!" Declan turned away gagging, while Kyle stared on in horror.

Malik's tiny body lay in a gory mess of blood and dirt. What shocked Kyle and Declan most, though, was the long incision along Malik's abdomen. Thick stitches, hastily sown, appeared to have kept the wound from bursting.

Kyle's mind raced in speculation. Had Malik some sort of health problem which required surgery? Even if he did and he had died on the operating table, what kind of doctor would have just dumped a child's body so unceremoniously in a back alley?

Concentrating so as to better detect the corpse's body chemistry, Kyle discovered that Malik had been dead for several hours. Even with his amazing healing abilities, Kyle could not revive a person who had been dead for so long. There was something else present, though. Kyle frowned, absorbed in thought. There was a mass inside Malik which wasn't organic. What could it possibly be?

"Kyle….Who could have done this?"

"It could have been anyone. Maybe he was seen with us westerners, and punished for it. You know what the insurgents do to people caught co-operating with the enemy."

Declan frowned. As much as he hated the insurgents for their cruelty, he knew that the occupying soldiers, themselves included, were little better.

When he had left home with Kyle, Declan didn't think he would have ever ended up fighting for cash in Iraq. While it wasn't exactly his dream job, admittedly the sense of adventure was alluring, and still attracted him. He felt like he had made the right decision to follow Kyle. They were like brothers now, working as a team, watching each others' backs. Besides, what did he have to look forward to back in Seattle? After he had injured his ankle, Declan had lost any opportunity at a scholarship and at a higher education. His dad had run into financial trouble, so he couldn't rely on anyone but himself. Declan certainly didn't want to spend the rest of his life flipping burgers, so he did what he thought was best.

An idea suddenly hit Declan, "Can't you revive him?"

"No, he's been dead for too long."

"Why do you think he has that cut on his body?" asked Declan studying the gash.

"It looks as if someone operated on him. When I went over his body chemistry, I also detected some sort of mass in his abdomen, just underneath the cut."

Declan frowned in thought, "A mass? You mean like a tumour?"

Kyle had his own theory of what had happened, "No. It wasn't organic….I think someone may have hacked him open and put something inside."

"Jesus Christ!" Declan yelled in shock, his eyes widening. "I thought that'd be something I'd only see in horror movies."

Kyle could only stare at the body, contemplating Malik's horrible fate. How could someone so young, someone so innocent suffer such a grisly end? Malik didn't deserve what he got. He had no part in this war. He hadn't hurt anybody, only trying to survive after his parents' deaths.

Kyle had been no different. When he first arrived at the Tragers', he was just a child, an innocent, brought into a world of indifference. Yet, someone had offered him love. Nicole had brought him home, against her better judgement. Over time, he had become a member of the family. Everybody accepted him and loved him. He had a brother who's jokes he could laugh at, a sister who he could ask for relationship advice when he needed it, a father who taught him what it meant to be a man, and a mother with whom he could discuss anything. He had left them, causing them so much grief. Kyle knew, though, that they were safe. Contradicting thoughts began to spring up in Kyle's mind. Was all the pain worth it? Did he have the right to make the choice to leave them, to abandon them?

Pushing these opposing thoughts to the back of his mind, Kyle reflected on how lucky he had been. He had found love, and although he was forced to depart, he was at least still alive and well now. Unlike him, Malik had not been so blessed. Kyle had realized long ago that everything was dictated by chance, an ugly truth but a fact nevertheless. Some survived and prospered, others didn't. That was the way the world worked. Nobody got what they deserved. It was simply a game of probabilities, and Malik had come out on the losing end.

Observing Kyle was taking his time looking at Malik's body, Declan shifted his feet, gaze darting around them. In a voice tight with urgency, he quickly brought Kyle out of his musing, "Kyle! Can you tell what the mass is?"

"I can try," Kyle answered as he closed his eyes and concentrated on Malik's broken body. His mind travelled past the child's skin, muscle, fat, tissue and bone and into the very depths of his body. There was indeed something there, an object. The object appeared to be cylindrical in shape, metallic and plastic in composition.

Suddenly, Kyle grasped what was going on. The object was a bomb! Someone had implanted a bomb into Malik's body, perhaps hoping to use the boy as a living, breathing explosive. Clearly, Malik had not survived, so the operation had been a failure. Why had the body been dumped out in the open like this, though? Kyle knew the answer to this question was irrelevant. They had to get away from the body as quickly as they could.

Kyle turned towards Declan in alarm, "It's a bomb! Someone tried to put a bomb inside Malik. We have to get away now!"

The two friends rapidly rose to their feet and began to sprint in the direction they had come from. As they picked up speed, Kyle heard a cellphone ring come from one of the dark doorways they had just passed. Was someone detonating the bomb? Looking back, Kyle had his worst fears confirmed. Time slowed down as he saw Malik's body expand, the skin tearing under the pressure. Flesh and bone began to emerge from the skin, breaking down into little chunks heading straight for them. Mixed in was shrapnel from the bomb, tiny projectiles flying in their direction, ready to tear their own bodies apart as Malik's had been just a fraction of a second before.

Kyle knew he could do nothing but hope that they had managed to get far enough away from the bomb to survive. With these thoughts racing through his mind, Kyle felt a sudden sharp pain in his back and legs. This was it, this was the way he would die, half way around the world from the ones he loved, fighting in a pointless war. This was his last moment of life. As he flew to the ground, Kyle became submerged in darkness.


	4. Back In Seattle

Back in Seattle, Amanda Bloom was on the bus heading towards her neighbourhood. Beside her, Lori Trager seemed to be brooding before an idea hit her.

"Hey, Amanda, you want to come to a party tonight? It's at one of the dorms on campus."

Amanda shook her head in regret, "Sorry, I can't. I have a lot of studying to do tonight. Thanks for the invite, though."

"Yeah, no problem, maybe next time."

Just then, the bus came to a halt at their stop. Amanda rose from her seat. Noticing Lori didn't follow her, she asked, "Aren't you coming?"

"No, I have to stop by the book store."

"Ah, okay, see you tomorrow."

As Amanda got off the bus and began to walk home, she took out the notes from her music theory class and began to review them. Ever since she had begun the music program at U-Dub nearly two years ago, she had been swamped in study. This, combined with the hours she put in at The Rack, gave her little time left over for her friends and socializing.

Still, the experience had been a very positive one. She had come into contact with so many new ideas. High school and its enclosed, anti-intellectual nature was now a distant memory. Now, the subjects she studied were actually interesting and the flow of ideas stimulating.

Besides the intellectual aspect of college, Amanda had also met a lot of new people. Admittedly, some of those people had been a bad influence on her. She remembered the first and only time she had gotten drunk and how some of her friends had pressured her into drinking too much. Shuddering at the memory, she also knew that she had made other friends who respected her and who would be there for her.

Amanda also felt as if she had finally broken free of the bubble that her mother had tried to enclose her in. She smiled, recalling how her mother had given her 'the talk' when she had turned eighteen.

"_Look, you're legally an adult now. You can go out to parties and meet with your friends, but I expect you to work hard in school. Remember, you live in my house. If you neglect your schoolwork, I'll ground you," _Mrs. Bloom had paused, choosing her words._ "Amanda, college is different from high school. You have to make sure not to get yourself in dangerous situations. Just…don't let anyone take advantage of you. You're all I have left, so be careful."_

Amanda knew her mother had offered her a deal that day, a deal which she gladly took: more personal freedom in exchange for good marks….and the promise to be responsible. At the time, she had been surprised that her mom had loosened up a bit, but in the end she was grateful for her understanding.

Of course, Amanda wasn't completely free. She still lived at home since she didn't have the money to move out. The feeling of independence, though, of finally just beginning to make her own way in the world, was thrilling. As a result, Amanda felt as if she was a much more self-confident person. It wasn't that she lacked confidence back in high school, but now she had gotten past her 'anxious' phase. She was no longer afraid of opening herself up to meet people, nor was she uneasy about spending time at bars.

Despite this new-found self-confidence, Amanda had still remained true to her convictions. Although she was modest about it, her friends complimented her honesty, integrity, and her sensitivity towards others, as well as her conscientiousness in completing her schoolwork. She had never been the loud, boisterous type and this hadn't changed.

After about a twenty minute walk, Amanda reached her house. She glanced at the Tragers' home before opening her front gate. While she had made new friends at U-Dub, Amanda never neglected her old friendships. Lori and she had become very close over the previous few years. They shared all their secrets, and as Lori lived just next door, they also spent a lot of time together.

Even with the scholarships Amanda earned, her mother had to work late hours in order to pay her daughter's tuition. As usual, Amanda was stuck making her own dinner. While the spaghetti boiled in a pot of water on the stove, she decided to practise the new piece her piano professor had assigned earlier that day.

As Amanda sat in front of her piano, she was reminded of him. Every time she sat down in that spot to play, she remembered the boy who had gifted her with the wonderful instrument. Her relationship with Kyle had been the brightest point of her life. When they had been together, she was truly happy. The old joy she possessed before her father's death had returned because of Kyle. But his sudden departure had hurt her deeply. Even though they weren't 'together' when he had left, she had still loved him. He had told her his secrets right before he left, and yet even knowing who he really was, she had still loved him. She loved him for who he was and how his soul could touch people.

Amanda had tried to find another guy after starting at U-Dub, but she could never seem to get past the first few dates. She was convinced that most of the guys she dated were decent people, but after being with Kyle….Well, how could anyone compare to Kyle? He had been thoughtful, sweet, and selfless to a fault, always trying to protect her. The truth was that she hadn't gotten over him, even after nearly two years apart. Their connection had been too deep and they had shared too much for that to happen.

All of a sudden, Amanda heard the spaghetti boil and rushed to turn off the burner. She then finished preparing her meal, took the bowl, and walked up the stairs to her room. Sitting down at her desk and flipping on the computer, she decided to quickly skim through the news while eating. As she scrolled down the web-page, a small photograph of a man caught her eye. The man looked to be about her age, but what really seized Amanda's attention was his striking resemblance to Kyle, though admittedly an older, much tougher looking version. Beside the photo was the headline: 'Insurgents capture two PMCs in Iraq'. She knew that the resemblance was likely just a coincidence, but her curiosity got the better of her as she clicked the link.


End file.
